


I'm With You

by kesdax



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I’m with you…</i>
</p>
<p>The voice in her ear sent a chill down her spine. It had been so long, so quiet, that Root was almost surprised by how loud the Machine sounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr.
> 
> I think this might be some sort of post-ep fic for 4x09? Idk… Also based on that bts pic ages ago of Sarah asleep on the cot in the turtle cave.

_I’m with you…_

The voice in her ear sent a chill down her spine. It had been so long, so _quiet,_ that Root was almost surprised by how loud the Machine sounded.

“Root?” said Shaw.

Root jumped, forgetting she wasn’t alone. Forgetting why she had come here in the first place. The underground subway was cold and dark. Harold had powered down for the night, the only light left was a low dim from the lamp by the small cot Shaw was currently sitting cross-legged on.

“What are you doing here?” Shaw asked, her curious look turning into a frown. “I don’t need you checking up on me.”

“I’m not,” said Root and thought about saying _the Machine wanted me here_ , but thought that would only piss Shaw off more. “I brought you a present,” Root said brightly, tossing a paper bag at Shaw. She caught it with deft fingers, the frown on her face turning into a scowl.

“You a pastry chef again or something?” Shaw asked, peering into the bag and taking out a still warm pastry. Root watched the muscles on her neck as they tensed when Shaw took a bite, the sight almost mesmerizing.

“Or something,” Root said, moving to lean on the wall opposite the cot. Shaw was focused on the food she was eating, but Root found she couldn’t avert her eyes, couldn’t look away in case it was the last time she ever got the chance.

Shaw had almost died today and Root didn’t think she had ever been as scared in her entire life. Not even when it was her own life on the line, two bullet holes and an army of Samaritan’s assassins coming after her.

She hadn’t even been scared of _her_ , of that blonde operative that had come after Shaw today, not even then. In God Mode and intent on killing Root, fear had bubbled underneath her skin, but Root hadn’t been _scared._

The Machine had been with her then, whispering instructions quickly in her ear and Root had followed them, not thinking she would make it out of the hotel alive.

But somehow she had. The Machine had said the same thing then too. _I’m with you_. Somehow, the fear had left Root. She felt like she could do anything, _survive_ anything, as long as the Machine was by her side.

_I’m with you._

But not now. That reassurance that had been there before was far from Root’s reach. Because the Machine could no longer guarantee Shaw’s safety. Or anyone else’s.

Down here, deep underground in the maze of abandoned subway tunnels, Shaw was safe. Samaritan couldn’t find her here. But Root knew it was only a matter of time. Shaw didn’t do well sitting around doing nothing. Despite Harold giving her odd jobs to do, allowing her near his computers to do some of the usual grunt work he carried out while his pet detective ran around the city saving numbers, allowing him time to maintain his cover, Root knew it wouldn’t last.

That was not the kind of life Sameen Shaw lived and Root was counting down the days until they came down here to find the place empty.

Another set of eyes locked with hers and Root stiffened. She hadn’t realised Shaw had stopped eating and she watched, swallowing thickly as Shaw licked her fingers clean.

“What are you doing here, Root?” Shaw asked again, putting her second pastry aside for later. Root wasn’t surprised she hadn’t offered to share, she so rarely did, and down here, acquiring food for Shaw’s larger than most people’s appetite wasn’t possible.

Shrugging, Root pushed herself from the wall and moved towards a bookshelf in the corner of the room. It amused her that Harold had brought it down here, as if he were trying to recreate some small link back to their old life. The shelves were filled with a range of books, most of them she suspected related to Harold’s cover, kept here in case he had to work late. The others were a mixture of fiction and non-fiction. Root stared at them with more fascination than she felt, feeling Shaw’s eyes watching her every move.

“Thought you might be hungry,” Root said. “Or tired of ramen noodles.” The underground subway didn’t exactly give a lot of meal options and Root knew the lack of suitable nourishment was probably going to be one of the major instigators of Shaw wanting to escape her makeshift prison.

Because that was what it was. A prison of sorts. Shaw was trapped down here now. If she ventured outside, she wouldn’t last long on the streets before Samaritan located her. And there was nothing Shaw or Root, or even the Machine, could do about it.

_I’m with you._

Doubt filled Root. Doubt that they could survive, that they could win this war. It crept inside of her, lingering beneath her skin, had been for quite some time now, this doubt over whether or not the Machine actually had an endgame in this war. If She was just buying Herself, and them, a little bit more time.

“Thanks,” said Shaw, surprising Root by how grateful she sounded.

Root turned then, offering Shaw a small smile that lacked her usual perkiness. She couldn’t seem to muster up the energy for it tonight.

“Maybe next time I’ll bring you that twelve inch special from the pizza place you like so much,” Root offered, not realising she meant it as a promise until the words had left her mouth.

“I’d like that,” said Shaw, surprising Root again by how genuine it sounded.

They stared at each other for a moment before Root finally moved. “Get some sleep, Shaw,” she called over her shoulder.

“Root, wait.”

A gasp escaped Root’s lips when Shaw grabbed onto her wrist, tugging her backwards slightly. She hadn’t seen Shaw move from the cot and was impressed by how quick and agile she must have been on her feet. Root turned to face her, suppressing the smirk that always presented itself whenever their differences in height become particularly prominent. Shaw was barefoot, giving Root several inches on her, almost like Root was towering over her. But Shaw never seemed intimidated by it, more irritated than anything.

“Thanks,” Shaw mumbled, eyes darting down at the hand that was still clamped tightly around Root’s wrist. It was tighter than necessary and Root hoped it would leave a bruise, leave her with a mark that only Shaw could make.

“You said that already,” Root reminded her, eyebrow raised in amusement as Shaw’s nostrils flared in annoyance.

“Not for the food,” Shaw said sourly, letting go of Root’s wrist. Root let her arm fall loosely to the side, feeling cold all of a sudden. “I meant for today.”

“Oh,” said Root.

“You kind of saved my ass,” Shaw muttered reluctantly, averting her eyes.

Root smiled. “The Machine helped.”

Shaw shrugged at that, like she wasn’t willing to give the Machine her thanks, only Root. It made Root’s heart beat a little bit faster, even if it left her feeling a bit ridiculous.

“Extra pepperoni,” Shaw said suddenly.

“What?” Root asked, frowning in confusion.

“On my pizza,” Shaw clarified, rolling her eyes as if Root was stupid. “And no anchovies.”

Root felt like laughing, but settled on a bright grin instead. “But I like anchovies.”

“Who says you’re getting any?” Shaw said, glaring in that way that Root could tell wasn’t really a glare at all. She liked to think of it as _her_ glare, the one Shaw reserved specifically for her.

“Goodnight, Sameen,” said Root brightly, grin still on her face as she leaned in to place a quick peck on Shaw’s cheek. Shaw blinked at her, startled for a moment before _that_ glare appeared again.

Root turned on her heel, imagining the glare following her all the way out of the subway. Oddly, it made each step she took seem a little lighter. None of the dread she had been feeling when she came down here tonight, pastries in hand, was still there.

The Machine had gone quiet again, but not even that could darken her mood. Today had been dark and gloomy, but since Samaritan had come online, Root had learned to take those little rays of light that sometimes penetrated through the darkness of war. She cherished and remembered them, held onto them tightly, refusing to let go. They gave her hope that the Machine’s rare assurances never could.

As she climbed the last few steps, trailed the maze of long forgotten corridors, Root knew that it was Shaw – _always Shaw_ –  that came with those small flickers of light. And even though fear still lingered in her heart, she wasn’t scared anymore.

She was determined.

_I’m with you._

The Machine couldn’t guarantee their safety, couldn’t promise to keep Shaw alive as Samaritan continued to hunt her down. Neither could Root, but she was determined to make sure she gave Samaritan as good a fight as she, as _they_ , could give.


End file.
